Thorin's Vow
by alxxman
Summary: After the decimation and destruction of his home, Thorin Oakenshield desperately wished for vengeance. And once more, as Elven King Thranduil turned his back on his people, Thorin's soul cried out. Unbeknownst to him, his rage and pain drew upon an ancient power, world's away. One with a vicious desire for justice. One for absolution. One with the ability to avenge him.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

"Are you quite sure we're in the correct place?"

"My answer is the same as the last time you asked _but a moment ago-_ I am more than _quite sure,"_ an exasperated voice called out.

"Yes, well, there isn't anything here."

"Gandalf, it's a desert. There hasn't been anything here for miles." The old man cloaked in grey sighed as he and his counterpart trudged through the dry land. His wrinkled and wizened face was flushed from the heat and sun, despite his wide brimmed pointy hat providing shade. His belt, which had been tightly bound around his waist, was now loose from constant activity and clunked against his body with each step. His long grey hair was tangled, his beard speckled with sand and a deep mumbling grumble could be heard about how he was most certainly never coming back to this forsaken place. The man in front of him chuckled and it took most, if not all, of the grey wizard's will power not to stick his staff in front of his foot and trip him in the sand.

The sky was a clear and light blue, the sun blinding and terrible, relentless with its heat. The Nafarat was a sea of rolling red sand. It's dunes, sparkling like rubies, varied in size from small mounds to towering peaks. The air shimmered and wavered, distorting the landscape as Gandalf gazed out into the Unending.

"We've arrived." He looked over to his partner and couldn't help but wonder if he had finally succumbed to madness.

"Rómestámo-"

"May the _Valar_ help you Gandalf, if you say there is nothing here _one more time."_ Gandalf chuckled as he finally came to stop near his friend, sagging against his staff. The other wizard was clothed in blue robes so dark they were nearly black. His white hair and beard were hidden under a piece of cloth of the same color, covering all but his deep brown eyes. His tanned hands were tight around his pale silver staff. Made of beech wood, it was smooth and cool to the touch, topped with a chunky and sharply cut onyx. Gandalf had asked him earlier how he could stand to live in such a place with such dark clothing, the man had merely turned to him with a roll of his eyes and said 'are we or are we not wizards?'

Gandalf looked to him now, knowing he could sense the shift between worlds better than he. "Can't you feel it?" Rómestámo's eyes were wide and wild, scanning the horizon rapidly. "The thickness in the air that wasn't present a moment ago. The smell-"

"Lightening." They both looked upward to find a black mass hanging above them in the sky. It moved unnaturally quick, covering the sun and casting the desert in a grey tinged darkness. It roiled and boiled over, menacing and quaking. A flash lit the area as a great boom of thunder filled the air. Gandalf latched onto his hat as it rose off his head and watched with squinted eyes as Rómestámo raised his staff, arms locked above his head, chanting words he couldn't catch, before slamming it into the sand. His stone glowed briefly before a small white dome appeared, just big enough to encase the two men.

"What's happening?" Gandalf had to nearly yell for the wind and sand was howling and screaming as it raged around them.

"She's coming!" His shout was almost drowned out as lightening struck and another monstrous clap of thunder echoed through the sky, the sand shaking and shivering in its power.

The wizards watched in horrified awe as great rift tore in the sky, the dark clouds beginning to take shape.

"Rómestámo, this is madness!" The blue wizard opened his mouth but suddenly they both fell to their knees, the pressure in the air increasing too much to stand, despite the shield around them. The heavens howled and they crushed their hands to their ears in vain. The ground shook as the sky let loose thunder and lightening shrieked across the sky, cutting and slicing through the dark.

The strange clump of clouds began expanding and lengthening. It's newly formed funnel shape twisted and curved in a macabre dance as it stretched to the earth. The men looked on, helpless as the sand began to rise a short distance from them. The small grains glistened like newly spilt blood as they floated and swirled.

They were thrown completely flat as the strange funnel suddenly shot to the sand and connected with the ground, sending a shockwave of wind coasting over the dunes. White light, stark and unexpected, blinded them as a last and final bone-jarring boom split the world.

They stayed there, nearly buried in the sand as they listened to the silence ringing around them.

 _Of all the foolhardy things-_

A sharp nudge to his shoulder had Gandalf raising his head, sand sliding off him as his hat dropped from his head. He looked to Rómestámo, only to be caught unawares by the sun.

 _The sun?_

He stilled, certain his mind was playing tricks, and fully opened his eyes.

The sky truly was clear, just as it was moments ago before the utterly bizarre weather change.

" _Gandalf_." The blue wizard's voice was barely audible, a rasp of a whisper. Both of them still stomach down on the ground, he followed Rómestámo's gaze to a not-quite-so-far distance in front of them.

For there knelt a woman, naked but for her pale gold hair draped around her as a curtain; fingers clawed into the sand and lips pulled back into a snarl as her piercing green eyes bled black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Quick little note:** Huge thanks to my two reviewers, CrystalVixen93 and MissCallaLilly. You two the real MVP's! Also, thanks to those who favorited and followed!

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

Gandalf had seen many things during his years on Middle Earth. Many, terrible and wondrous things that could be considered out of the ordinary. But he was sure that a naked woman, a _growling_ and _snarling_ naked woman being born from the sky was a little more unusual than most.

He was truly and utterly unsure as to what to do in this situation. A quick glance to his left showed that the slack-jawed Rómestámo was much the same. So he stayed where he was. Body still half buried in sand and sweating once again from the sun beating down upon his back and hatless head.

Gandalf watched with trepidation as she vocalized her noises louder, shivers racking her slight frame. His skin crawled and prickled when he heard other voices layered within hers. _What is this devilry?_ He could see the pale sharp edges of her shoulder blades peeking through her mass of golden hair as she crouched even lower upon the ground. But then she stopped, suddenly frozen and her mouth closed with a click as her teeth came together quickly. She reminded him of an animal, wild and on edge. The woman cocked her head to the side, black eyes switching position between he and the blue wizard. It looked like she had made some sort of decision when she nodded to herself before standing.

Modesty was apparently something this creature either didn't understand or didn't care about. She was unabashed as she stood there, straight and unyielding on the red sand and under the burning yellow sun. Her hair was long and straight, shining a light gold as it lay over her shoulders and arms. Her skin was pale, almost more-so than that of an elf. It was pearlescent, translucent in places, the tiny blue veins of blood visible and stark under her white flesh. The woman was slight of build though slim lines of lean muscle cut across her shoulders and thighs.

She stuck out a hand, palm up, and stilled.

"What is happening?" The Grey Wizard's chapped lips stretched and pulled with pain as he whispered to his partner but he ignored it.

"How should I know?" Gandalf looked incredulously at the other man upon hearing his hushed reply.

" _You're_ the one that had a vision of her coming. _You_ sent for me!"

"Yes, well- I've done my part!"

"You're part?! You've barely done anything you old fool, except drag me into this hot forsaken wasteland of dust!" A short high pitched giggle interrupted their whisper battle and both men froze, almost nose to nose due to their _exchanging of words._

 _"_ She's right next to us isn't she?" Gandalf merely nodded his head and they turned their necks slowly back to the front and both had to resist the urge to scoot back.

The woman knelt on the ground, face stooped low, almost even with theirs. A wide smile graced her full pinks lips and he noticed with a small amount of surprise that her eyes were back to green. Her silken hair fell in front of her body, resting on the sand as she sat in front of them, too close for any sort of respect toward personal space.

The mysterious woman giggled again and spoke, waving her hand between the three of them.

"Any sort of idea as to what she's saying?" The grey wizard shot the man a dark look.

"Yes, _of_ _course_ , but I'm choosing not to reply because I _want_ to be rude." She tried speaking again but it didn't sound the same. This was harsh, short pronunciations whereas the first time she spoke it was fluid and some of the words rolled together. Her forehead puckered, the woman's slim brows drawing together and she began speaking faster, none of the strange words stayed the same after a few seconds. He assumed she was trying to speak to them but had no idea what language so she kept switching from one to another. _How peculiar._

"Do you speak Westron, my lady?" She stopped short at the interruption and merely stared at him.

"Sindarin? Khuzdul?" Her head tilted, eyes still locked unblinking to his.

"Rohirric?" Her heavily lashed eyes narrowed and Gandalf watched anxiously as she reached a slender hand to his face. She hovered for a moment, forefinger extended in front of his forehead before finally touching.

Memories flew across his mind in a torrent and he felt the world slipping away. Neither painful nor pleasant, it was uncomfortable. Invasive. He was helpless to stop the rush of images as he was assaulted with sights, smells, _feelings,_ all over again. His deepest and darkest moments bared to him and this woman. She was a presence within him, all encompassing and never ending. It was cold and vast, this part of her. She cared not for his own emotions as she pulled, plucked, and plundered through his life. Secrets that no one but he were privy to were now siphoned out, copied and transferred to _her_. His joys, sorrows, regrets, _strengths, weaknesses, pains,_ and _pleasures_ were hers now as well. Then as quickly as it begun, it was over.

His head fell to the ground, limp, uncaring that his sweat drenched face would now be coated with sand.

" _What have you done?"_ He was vaguely aware of Rómestámo's raised voice beside him, shaking with anger.

"Calm yourself, Darkness-Slayer. Your friend is fine. He will need but a moment more to recover." Shocked and forgetting the mental ordeal he just went through, Gandalf snapped his head up, granules falling into his eyes and down his face and he messily swiped away what he could before setting his still dazed gaze on the woman. Her voice was light and smooth with the exception of a slight lilt to the 'r's. Though she looked young and fairly small, there was power in her. Deep and ageless. He felt it in his mind and he could hear the echo of memories and death that lived in the tightly controlled pitches of her voice.

"You're speaking. You're speaking the Common Speech." The blue wizard's question trembled slightly, betraying his unease. She nodded, her long hair gently swaying with the movement. Her eyes moved to Gandalf and he dared not believe what he saw.

 _Blue. Her eyes are blue._

"I apologize, Pilgrim for your discomfort. I've been told the Meld is not always pleasant." Gandalf continued to stare, he had no words at the moment for he was still a bit disoriented and tried to clear away the fog that now made residence among his thoughts.

"The Meld?" She turned back to Rómestámo, understanding that he would be the one speaking for the moment. "And you know our names? How is this possible? _Who are you?"_ Gandalf's body was quaking as his friend carried on conversation with the woman.

 _That woman,_ his mind whispered. He was positive he was still in shock and that was why he was not filled with rage at her _duplicating_ his memories and all that he knew. _Stolen. In merely a blink with almost no effort._

"Often times when we are placed within a new world or time, we are not partial to the knowledge of where and when we are. The Meld is a way for my people to understand. One touch and we are able to copy, as it were. Languages, customs, courtesies," a slight nod to Gandalf, "personal memories and experiences are an unfortunate addition. But do not worry Pilgrim, all that is solely yours has been cast aside. It is not a direct part of me, your secrets are safe- unless they apply directly to my duty." She stood then, craning her slender neck to the sky and to the land around her. Rómestámo used this opportunity to get up out of the sand and pulled Gandalf with him. The two men were hunched together, both staves still lying on the ground as their attention remained fixed on the lone female.

"I know about this world, Arda, as you do. Oh! Speaking of, I want to sincerely apologize for my entrance, I'm not usually Called anymore and I was a bit disoriented." She smiled then and her gleaming white teeth were bright against her face in the light of the afternoon. Gandalf was sure she was trying to be genuine but the effect was slightly disturbing, as if a cat was smiling at a mouse. "I don't normally have such an off-putting disposition at first."

" _Who are you?"_ Gandalf was surprised at his own voice, shaky and raspy, tinged with a kind of fear he had long forgotten.

"Ah, yes. Well, like you, _Olórin,_ I have many names and titles," her hand flitted about her face as if to wave away her statement, "but I believe in this world, you may call me Authwen."

"You said were called? By what?" She giggled at the blue wizard's question, the delicate tinkling sound echoed softly and reminded Gandalf of falling glass.

"Not by a what, Darkness-Slayer. By a whom." She caught Gandalf's gaze, terrifyingly familiar eyes twinkling.

"I believe you know him as Thorin Oakenshield."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

It was well into the night when the lone figure crept up to their destination. Everything was smaller in size, had been for while now on the tail end of their journey. Fences reached the stranger mid-thigh and homes were underground with large colorful doors; usually surrounded with flowers, gardens, and shrubbery. The paths were gravel or dirt, but carefully cultivated either way. While the newcomer could see almost as well in the dark as they could in day-light, colors were tricky. Though they had no doubt everything was as vibrant as it could possibly be.

Dull leather boots treaded softly as they wandered up the stone path. Faint glowing blue lines were etched carefully into the woodwork of the round door. Rómestámo had mentioned a sigil, or a rune of some sort would be visible, that was how to know which hobbit hole was the right one.

 _Or the noise coming from inside._

Raucous laughter followed by riotous protests seemed an unending loop as the shadowed guest stood outside listening. A gloved hand reached out from behind the dark cloak, black leather squeaking as they tightened it to a fist before gently knocking on the door.

All sound ceased abruptly.

Then the sharp twang of a sword sliding out of its sheath was heard, followed by several more and a few shouted words before a deeper and smoother voice spoke up over the commotion, easing the tense atmosphere back down.

Softly, a pitter-patter of feet shuffling toward the door caught the stranger's attention. The large door opened slowly with a short creak before a curly head popped up behind the edge, the warm light from inside the house spilling over the threshold into the walkway, highlighting the tall figure in black.

"Um, hello. May I help you?"

"All is well Bilbo, you may let her in." Bilbo's eyebrows went high on his forehead, under is his curls as he took in the sight of the shadowed newcomer, now a woman. Equally surprised choruses went up through the small hobbit hole, varying degrees of aggression and disbelief.

The hooded head dipped in welcome before lifting a foot and ducking, stepping through into a warm and welcoming home. The entryway was filled with stools and benches and coat hooks with various items scattered around and hung up. The hobbit was still standing near the open door, partially hidden with his eyebrows still missing. He seemed to come to and coughed into his hand before jumping to shut the door.

"Can I take your cloak, Miss?" His voice trailed off in question. Two gloved hands reached up slowly and carefully dragged the hood down. Short strands of blonde hair fluttered about as the longer pieces were still trapped by the cloak. The woman's lips turned into a soft smile as she took in the hobbit and his home. The same hobbit who was now staring wide-eyed.

Flicking the clasp at her throat, she trailed the cloak over her shoulders before folding over one arm and offering it to Bilbo.

"Thank you, Master Bilbo." That gentle upward turn of her mouth and immediately an answering grin appeared on his face. "You may call me Authwen."

He didn't answer, merely blushed and stuttered a bit before wandering down a darkened hallway, her cloak in his arms.

 _Absolutely adorable._

Before the woman had a chance to move any further, Gandalf appeared from the other room, his face blank in the flickering light.

"Hello Mithrandir. I trust you are well?" He had left her with Rómestámo not two days after she arrived in Middle Earth. The blue wizard had finally acknowledged that she unnerved the both of them, but Gandalf a bit more.

The old man tightly nodded his head in reply, before sweeping out his arm to the other room.

"Behave yourself." He whispered as she passed. She smiled then, one that Gandalf blinked away. It had looked, for a moment with the shadows dancing across her face, as if pointed teeth stretched between her lips. He dismissed the notion but couldn't stop the slight tremor that racked his frame before he slowly followed her in.

Gathered around a modest wooden table, much too small for the company it held, was a mesh of some of the most interesting creatures the woman had seen yet.

 _Dwarves._

Though each one looked vastly different from the next. Even those who seemed almost human in features, compared to the others. The King and his kin, for example.

"A woman, Gandalf?"

 _Speaking_ _of King._

He was older here than the image in her mind's eye supplied for her. His hair was still long and dark, though now streaked with grey. His black beard still closely cropped and that strong straight nose topped by piercing blue eyes. Eyes that were now calculated and coldly trained on her.

"This _woman_ is called Authwen and you may address me as such. As I am my own person, you will speak to me if you have any qualms."

A world weary sigh came from off to her right as the tension in the room thickened to suffocating levels.

Eyes that were ice, now burned with fire and flashed.

"Why, you-!" A dwarf, bald with dark lines etched into his skin, reached over his shoulder to grasp his axe and suddenly found himself struggling to breathe. The small pale hand at his throat didn't budge as he clawed and pulled and bucked, trying and failing to break free.

The woman, who had been standing in the entryway, was now crouched on the table over the body of the dwarf, the bright silver flash of a blade pressed against his cheek. The dwarf lord, eyes blown wide and mouth gaping, watched in growing horror as blue eyes slowly bled black, all color disappearing before it flooded the white as well. Her face was mere inches from his, pools of inky darkness staring into him as her hot breath puffed against his cheeks.

"I think you'd look _much_ more handsome without a beard. Hmm?" Tinkling laughter filled the room as each dwarf snapped out of their stupor and leapt to the defense of their comrade. One who was clearly in the clutches of a mad woman.

* * *

A/N: Hello lovelies! Hope all is well and that you enjoy this next chapter! I know they're small but unfortunately, they'll be that way until we get further into it. And I'm not going to ask for reviews BUT, that is one of the only ways I know if you like it so far or want to see any changes, etc. Just a thought!


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

"That is enough!" The wizard's voice boomed louder with each word, punctuating it with ever darkening grey clouds that churned and rolled over the ceiling, eating light as they spread.

The angry and indignant shouts of the dwarves stopped immediately and they all froze, staring slack-jawed at Gandalf.

Authwen however, was still crouched over the very still form of a large dwarf, knife still dug in to his cheek. Though she did stop choking him.

 _And people think I'm not nice._

The dwarf's eyes never left hers, but for a brief and fleeting moment to locate his King. She smiled at him again, while the others were distracted, and flipped the knife up and under her sleeve. With a short but heavy handed pat on his cheek, the woman stood, hunched up as she was because of the short ceiling, and calmly and silently walked across and off the table to stand beside the wizard while he continued to brew his temper tantrum.

She spied the hobbit hunkered down and trembling at the happenings, hiding behind the grey tower that was Gandalf.

The woman slowly reached out to him but stopped suddenly as the halfling tensed, eyes round and bright as he stared at her hand as if it would bite him.

"Oi! What just happened?!"

"She attacked Dwalin!"

"Bad luck having a woman here in the first place!"

"She's tossed in the head!"

The woman in question merely stood there, arms crossed and head slightly canted and watched as Gandalf came back down from his anger as the dwarves exploded, speaking and yelling all at once. Again.

"They're a rowdy bunch, aren't they?" She was met with a dark look and a hushed order to stay quiet. It was apparent that the old man's patience was running thin.

"Authwen and her place amongst you on this quest has never been subject to negotiation. She will be a permanent fixture. And-" he added a stern look to the tall bald dwarf that was currently being helped off the table and into his seat, "I gather you are done attempting to assess her skills?" Everyone in that tiny home knew there hadn't been a 'test' but for conveniency's sake, no one spoke otherwise. Many of them squirmed about and mumbled but they all looked to their leader for confirmation.

Who, in question, had not moved. He was still seated, elbows resting on the table and hands clasped tightly, the skin white around his knuckles. The fire she saw earlier was still there, raging and flickering behind light blue. _As it should be_. She threatened one of his men, disrespected his station, and she did it all while smiling. He didn't like change, she could tell that much, but especially when he had no control. She knew he had hand-picked each and every dwarf present, relying only on someone else when he had no other choice, as was the case for the hobbit. A man, or dwarf, such as him, carried pride around like a second skin. It draped over him, soothed him, and in the stillness of the night, it held him to its breast and whispered sweet nothings - raising him onto this pedestal of self-proclaimed visage that no one thought to contest. It nearly drenched every passing word that tumbled from his lips. She knew he was angry, furious even, but now with Gandalf's word, there was nothing he could do.

 _The time is coming, Thorin Oakenshield, when your pride will crumble to dust like bones in my hands_.

"Have I missed much?" Her voice was merely a whisper but still the wizard heard.

"Nothing worth repeating." She nodded in reply and turned her attention to the host of dwarves. They seemed to be conversing lowly, hands flying through the air to punctuate their words. Authwen took this opportunity to sink back into the darkness of the alcove, letting it wrap around her and blur her into shadow.

"This is all well and good, but you forget. The front gate is sealed; there is no way into the mountain." The oldest dwarf, she assumed due to his wrinkled face and snowy-white hair, spoke up at last, silencing the surrounding conversation.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." With a short wave of his fingers, Gandalf held up a key, to the astonishment of the dwarves. Did they truly believe the wizard would gather them here without cause?

"How came you by this?" The awe that soaked Thorin's voice was reflected in the faces of those around him.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." With his long reach, Gandalf passed the old and worn key to the King, the wonder still etched into his face, eyes wide and disbelieving, though he held the proof in his hand.

"If there is a key, there must be a door!" Life seemed to breathe back into them, they sat taller, straighter, as hope fortified them once again.

"Indeed Fili, these runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls." A map, yellowed and stiff, had been pushed to the far corner but was now brought back out as Gandalf spoke, the end of his finger directing their gazes to the inscription.

"There's another way in!" A dark haired dwarf exclaimed.

"You cannot believe it will be that simple." Her statement was light, her tone however, was flat. Her upper lip curled into a sneer, teeth and challenge bared. "If it were, do you not think your Mountain would have been reclaimed long ago?" Her eyes shifted over, "your father had the key, after all."

She watched with no small amount of satisfaction as his face clouded over. Heavy brows pulled together as a matching snarl appeared, a vein pounding near his temple. A short hiss, that of air escaping through clenched teeth, came from the wizard as he stepped in front her, blocking Thorin from her view.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." She could not see what was happening but the resounding sigh meant that Thorin's attention had been diverted. She huffed out a laugh but covered it with a small cough as she caught the molten look that was thrown over the wizard's shoulder. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" One dwarf shouted out, plainly proud of himself for coming to that conclusion. She tapped Gandalf on his side, a universal sign for 'please move' and was pleased when he actually did it. Though she was only half visible. Clearly he was worried she would do something rash.

"Hm, a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine." Bilbo, now without the wizard shielding him, was brought back into conversation.

"And are you?" Another dwarf asked.

"Am I what?" Bilbo's faced screwed up in confusion, trying to follow the train of thought the dwarves were on.

"He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" Laughter followed as another one joined in.

"M -Me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life." Bilbo stated.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." Balin inclined his head toward the hobbit as Bilbo nodded his head in agreement.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." The bald one, the one that had made a grievous mistake toward her earlier, spoke up.

A tingling erupted on her skin, the fine blonde hair standing on end. The air in front of her face thickened and she took a small step back, and eager grin gracing her lips as she anticipated what the next few moments would bring.

"Silence!" There were no billowing clouds this time, Gandalf's patience had apparently, finally, run out. His form extended, his aura exploded and nearly blew each dwarf into the backs of their chairs. The flames from the candles dimmed and danced as they shrunk, pressed upon by an unseen force. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"

The air was violently and swiftly sucked from the room, taking the breath of the occupants with it. Authwen was ready for that outcome and had held hers, exhaling when the force was taken back into the wizard. The dwarves, and unfortunately Bilbo, were not so lucky. They hacked and grasped at their chests as they struggled to inhale in short, sharp pants. Gandalf, choosing to pretend the scene in front of him was not happening, trudged on, albeit significantly calmer.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this." Now, somewhat breathing regularly, the dwarves stared at him with a slightly more wary gaze.

"Very well," Thorin's voice rang low through the room, "we will do it your way."

She didn't even need to look to know that the hobbit was already shaking his head.

"No, no, no." She leaned over and peeked. He was indeed shaking it. Vehemently.

"Give him the contract."

"Please." Bilbo half pleaded. He should know by now that dwarves hardly listen to anyone but themselves.

"Alright, we're off!" A new dwarf shouted out.

A contract was placed into Bilbo's hands and his eyes widened with each paragraph.

"It's just the usual summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth." Balin's balanced and soft voice did nothing to help cushion the words he was saying. The hobbit looked up, pale.

"Funeral arrangements?" His face clearly hoped this was all a joke. "Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations... evisceration... incineration?"

 _Ah, it seems I missed the conversation about the dragon._

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." This came out of nowhere from another one of the dwarves. His eyes gleamed with mischief and she had an inkling of what he was doing. _Poor Bilbo._

"Huh." The hobbit was breathing a bit irregular and she watched from behind as Gandalf finally took notice.

"You all right, laddie?" Balin spoke up, a twinge of concern layered in. Bilbo was bent over and she couldn't help but notice a certain… sheen to his skin.

"Uh, yeah... Feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace with wings."

"Air, I -I -I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash." Everyone was staring at Bilbo now as he breathed heavily, trying to calm himself despite the lovely imagery from the dwarf.

"Hmm. Nope." She caught him before he touched the floor. The hobbit's head lolled against her shoulder and she smoothly switched her grip, her left and right arm under his knees and back, respectively. She rose up, Bilbo cradled to her chest as she turned away from the surprised looks and made her way down the pitch black hallway.

"…Very helpful, Bofur."

* * *

A/N: Longer chappie for you this time! I tried not to be too boring and just stick to the regular dialogue - I'll be varying from canon about half the time because otherwise you'd just be reading the movie script and that's no fun. Once again, let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

* * *

The glow was soft but the shadows sharp. The liveliness of the dwarves in the next room could be heard but went unacknowledged by the current company — occupants frozen in time, captured by their own thoughts and the awkward tension of things that must be said.

Twin pairs of blue eyes stared as the hobbit seemed to breathe life back into himself through the vapors of a teacup. Unhurried and seemingly unburdened by the night's past few minutes, he sipped as if he had not a care in the world.

She knew better.

Small fingers coiled around the antiquated mug with a strength that belied his calmness. A lifeline, his tan knuckles were pale holding the steaming cup close to his body, his shoulders hunching to hover above his solace.

"I'll be alright, let me just sit quietly for a moment."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long!" The wizard exploded into the waiting space, feet racing one another in a pointless contest as he paced across the worn rug. "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire." He stopped and pinned the hobbit with a pointed glare. "The world is not in your books and maps, it's out _there_."

"You _dare_?"

The rage was evident in the speaker's tone and Gandalf's back straightened so quickly and to such a degree that a loud hiss escaped through his clenched teeth.

"You come into his house, his _home_ , uninvited and unwanted and precede to utterly disregard anything and everything that he has attempted to say this entire evening. You have the _audacity_ to bring guests — I use that term very loosely — and take advantage of a hobbits hospitality." Velvet were her words, poorly concealing the barbs honed with her caustic temperament. Unkempt grey brows sloped together above narrowed eyes as the wizard's mouth readied for war but she would not have it.

" _No!_ " Like a whip, her voice cracked through the tense space, punishing in its order and finality. The hobbit hole ceased all sound, even the dwarves in their personal merriment were hushed now.

"I cannot cast Judgment upon you, for you are neither one of the offenders for which I have been Called," she moved then, long legs slinking slowly around to stand in front Gandalf while blocking his view of the hobbit huddled in the chair. "But I will not stand idly by as you choose to guilt and manipulate — using the memories and experiences of a child — one whose aid you require."

The old man was practically vibrating with his indignation.

"I do not claim to be the leader of this merry band of misfits, nor will I ever. However, both you and Rómestámo agreed that it would be in the best interest for both of us if I tagged along on this quest of meddling and misplaced pride—"

"Now just—"

"Ah ah, one moment. Now, truths about this outrageously long nature walk aside, I promised the blue wizard that I wouldn't interfere with your business unless undeniably necessary so I would like to only say this once but knowing you I will most likely have to repeat myself — get out."

" _I beg your_ —"

"I do believe you were intending on sleeping here, were you not? _Without asking for permission._ " The normal visage of her eyes changed to the all too familiar encompassing blackness. However, this time it evolved.

Dark lines sprouted from even darker orbs, snaking across her temples like creeping vines and swept across her cheek bones, an ashen shadow following; skin changing color and sinking in on itself as it pulled tight across the bones in her face.

Onyx pits now sat where eyes once did.

Startled, he choked; a strangled gurgle cut off abruptly as his shoulders met the wall in his haste to back away from the creature before him. The face in front of the wizard resonated with his memory of corpses, their aged and decaying skin stretched and dried across its ivory canvas. Anything remotely human was now gone — a wraithlike creature in its place.

" _Get out."_ As if sensing a winter chill, his old bones ached as they rattled and hummed in the confines of their human cage. His magic quivered as her voice rushed over him — laced with something distinctly _other_. "I do believe there is an inn nearby. Isn't that correct Master Baggins? They should have more than enough room to house an old man and his _company_." Disdain nearly dripped from the last word as she tipped her head, bright strips of hair falling against her cadaverous cheek.

"Oh! O-oh, yes!" Though the question was rhetorical, the individual addressed did not seem to notice the underlying implication and answered quickly, shifting his wide-eyed gaze between them. Authwen peered over her shoulder, features suddenly devoid of the strange and dramatic markings as she smiled, causing his open mouth to snap shut and duck down to his drink once more.

"Wonderful!" A single clap punctuated the disturbingly cheerful phrase, at odds with the atmosphere of the sitting room. "Gandalf, would you mind gathering up the ducklings that are most assuredly _not_ eavesdropping from the kitchen? It's quite late and we've overstayed our welcome. I'll be right along behind you, don't worry, but first—" and pivoting to eye the utterly gobsmacked hobbit fully, the woman asked a question that really had nothing to do anything — but everything to do with something.

"May I tell you a story, Master Baggins?"

* * *

A/N: Hi. Wow, um, it's been a while. A long time actually. I apologize for my prolonged absence - but here's a totally random update! It's ridiculously small. But I hope you like it and don't be afraid to let me know what you think! Also - I probably missed a couple reviews (sorry), I'll answer them next time!


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